


Until Then We'll Have To Muddle Through Somehow

by Lillies_roses



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Totally in love but don't realise it yet, Totally in love but miles apart, Totally in love that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillies_roses/pseuds/Lillies_roses
Summary: Christmas ‘17, ‘18, ‘19.  Jarry.  Enough said.
Relationships: James Nightingale/Harry Thompson
Comments: 54
Kudos: 72





	1. The Very Next Day You Gave It Away

**Author's Note:**

> Began a few little Xmas fics a while ago. I am still working on my longer story, but I gotta say James’ current love life situation on the show has got me shook. I know others are enjoying it, which is cool, but I can’t lie I don’t buy it (/full on hate it, sorry!) and it’s sapping a bit of my Jarry inspo. But hopefully will be feeling it again soon! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarry Christmas 2017

James’ shoes squeaked as the soles met the pavement, crushing wet leaves beneath them. The damp sound echoed through the silence of the village. With one hand deep in his overcoat pocket and his head down against the bitter December wind, he strode purposefully through the deserted streets towards the soft yellow lights of home.

As he opened the door, James caught sight of Harry in the exact position he had left him in half an hour before. Sitting on the sofa, his feet were curled under him and he cradled a mug of tea against his chest. His gaze was fixed on the television, the flickering lights illuminating his pale, wan face. He was wearing that damn Christmas jumper again. James remembered the feeling of the cheap polyester under his fingertips as he had peeled it from Harry just days before. He bit down hard on his lip, as Harry turned towards the sound of the door clicking shut. “Hey.” Harry said quietly as their eyes met.

“Hi.” James murmured. A silence fell between them, as nonsensical Christmas cheer filtered out from the television. How strange it still felt to come home to him. James cleared his throat. “I, um, I was able to find a Chinese that was open.” He held up the plastic bag in his hand. “I know it’s not your most traditional Christmas dinner, and it’s not exactly haute cuisine, but it’s better than most around here.” James tore his gaze from Harry’s, and walked into the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Harry asked, twisting his head the other way to keep James in sight. His bruises had begun to heal, but the rings around his eyes had yet to fade. James shook his head. “No, you stay there, I’m more than capable.” After piling noodles and fried beef onto two plates, James took the food to Harry and placed both on the table in front of him. He returned to the kitchen briefly to pour two glasses of châteauneuf du pape, the wine a satisfyingly deep red as it stained the rims.

“Budge up.” James said, and Harry shifted himself to the left, making space for him to sit down. As they ate, James tried to concentrate on the film in front of him and not on how close Harry’s right knee was to his thigh, or the current of heat he could feel running through the narrow space between. He had kissed that knee a few nights before, run his tongue across the heart shaped scar raised in the middle. He had kissed every part of Harry’s body that he could, each inch of the skin he had dreamt about for so long. It was just as he had remembered. Better. Harry had melted into him, everything else forgotten. Until the light of day, of course, when Harry had reconsidered what the night was really worth.

James shook these thoughts from his head. Harry was still here, that was what mattered. As he turned back to the television, James frowned.

“ _What_ are we watching?” 

“Christmas Carol. I thought you were meant to be a fan of the classics?” Harry spoke through a mouthful of food.

“Why are there puppets?”

“They’re Muppets.” Harry laughed. “Oh come on, it’s actually really faithful. Give it a chance.”

James wrinkled his nose, and took a sip of wine. Dickens with Kermit and Miss Piggy certainly wasn’t his idea of a classic. Regardless, he tried to focus on the screen, but couldn’t help stealing glances at Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry had clearly seen this film more than a few times before. He mouthed along silently to certain phrases and songs, his face settling unknowingly into a broad smile. James hadn’t seen him smile like that in a long time. He felt a squeeze in his chest, a rubber band twisting around his heart.

As the film began it’s climax, Harry’s knee relaxed and fell against James’. It didn’t draw away, and James stiffened. His lungs felt tight. Harry hadn’t touched him since they had slept together. Slowly, he turned to look at Harry. His head had dropped, lolling onto his chest, and his eyes were closed. James stood up carefully, reaching for the remote to turn off the film. He knew how it ended, Ebenezer Scrooge opening his heart to Christmas cheer. To love. As quietly as he could, James cleared the table, taking the dishes to the kitchen and swallowing the dregs in each glass of wine. Then he stood above Harry for a moment. Harry’s breath was steady, his fingers twitching slightly, and his eyelids flickered. James couldn’t help but wonder what his dreams were about. At least they seemed peaceful.

James lifted Harry’s legs gently, moving them so that they rested on the sofa. He picked up a blanket that was thrown across the back, covering Harry’s body with it. Wrapping an arm under his shoulder, James carefully lifted his head to slip a cushion under it. Harry stirred, his eyes barely opening. He looked up at James, and a small, sleepy smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “Hey.” He breathed.

“Hello again.” James whispered, his voice thick, his face so close to Harry’s. “Go back to sleep.” Harry obeyed immediately, closing his eyes again and shifting back into the sofa. James stayed close as his breath began once more to slow, warm against his cheek. He brushed his fingers across the hairs that fell onto Harry’s forehead. Without thinking, somehow unable to resist, he closed the small gap between them and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead. Harry didn’t stir. “Merry Christmas, Harry Thompson.” He whispered, before pushing himself to his feet, turning off the lights and making his own way to bed.

Harry awoke with a jerk, surrounded by blackness. Panic began to rise immediately, his heart beating hard against his ribs. Where was he? Who was he with? Whatever he was sleeping on felt unfamiliar, and in his experience that never signaled anything good. He sat up, his eyes scanning desperately around the dark room. Slowly, as they adjusted to the darkness, Harry’s breath began to calm. He was in James’ front room. He was safe. Standing up, he pulled the blanket around his shoulders to ward off the midnight chill. Harry padded barefoot up the stairs and towards the guest room. As he walked past James’ door, he saw that it was slightly ajar. A temptation rose in him. Very slowly, very quietly he pushed it open a fraction more and peered in. James was asleep on his back, one arm stretched out to the side and the other propped under his head. There was a small frown pulling at his brow, but other than that he looked completely at peace. Watching him, Harry had a sudden urge to enter the room, to slip under the covers and rest his head upon James’ chest.

Only a few nights before, that was exactly where he had been. It had been the last thing he had intended to happen when he had gone to James for help. Although he couldn’t deny it had always been a possibility, an inexplicable pull between the two of them. No, it was the months on the streets that had made it unthinkable. Months spent with men whose rough touches were simply reminders of who he really was. What he really was. He was bad, soiled and unclean. He had expected that to be it from then on, but with James things had been different. The moment he had touched him, something had changed inside. It had been different to the first time they had been together as well. There was still that hunger in James that Harry had never experienced before, a desperation as he reached for Harry. But there was something else. As James’ hands and lips smoothed across every inch of his skin, he felt the prior months wash away. The guilt. The pain. For the first time since Amy, he was able to forget. With James above him, inside him, encircling him completely nothing else seemed to exist. It all just fell away.

Until the morning, when the light of day illuminated the cracks that spread out across his life. Every dark corner, each skeleton, all that he had ruined. His dad. Ste. And now James too. But James didn’t turn from him, not like everyone else had. Unbelievably, he was still there.

James moaned lightly in his sleep, turning onto his side and making Harry jump. He quickly closed the door and hurried to his room. After pulling off the jumper he had borrowed from James, he settled himself into bed, glancing at the clock beside him. 12.10. Christmas was over. Christmas without his father, without his family, without Ste. He’d made it through. And somehow, against all odds, as Harry closed his eyes he felt a little bit of Christmas warmth rise in his chest. It hadn’t been so bad after all.


	2. You’ll Be Doing Alright With Your Christmas Of White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarry Christmas 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooo much to everyone who engaged with my last piece, and for all of the lovely suggestions! I really appreciate it! As we all know, xmas is a super busy time with family and friends, and I think I’ve mentioned before that my job is one that takes up an awful lot of my time. I tend to write if and when I can! I do SO hope I’ll be able to write some of what you guys have requested, but if I can’t please don’t be offended 😊 There are amazing writers posting atm, so hopefully there will be lots of Jarry content to get us through! Much love, and Happy Christmas to all!

James lay across the sofa, one hand covering his eyes to block out the squallor that surrounded him. Bottles strewn around the room, the curtains pulled shut. Piles of untouched files lay on the table, remnants of the good intentions he had begun the day with, an aim of distraction that had failed so completely. His record player span in the corner, Schubert’s Winterreise enveloping the room, the volume turned to the maximum level. James couldn’t help a flutter of self-congratulation in his chest at his choice of music. Very apt. At any moment, if he so chose, he could get dressed and brave the winter chill just like the protagonist of this long favoured song cycle. Walk and walk, lamenting the loss of his love into marriage with another. Of course, there weren’t the blankets of biting snow to aid in his martyrdom, and the Cheshire countryside could hardly be called a wilderness. As much as Muller’s words of despair and isolation resonated, perhaps it was more romantic to continue to wallow in his own filth and find oblivion in wine rather than nature. Far more convenient, as well.

Underneath him somewhere James felt a vibration. He shifted his weight, his hand exploring beneath his back until his fingers found his mobile between the cushions of the sofa. He squinted as the held it to his face, the light blinding in the unlit gloaming of the evening. Mother. James ignored the drop in his stomach. Harry hadn’t been in touch since he had been thrown from the flat, the culmination of so many dreadful events. That wouldn’t suddenly change simply because it was Christmas. James continued to watch the small screen flash, until finally it fell still. A moment later it blinked again, signifying a voice message. He put it face down on the table, and closed his eyes.

James couldn’t help but wonder where his mother was spending the day. Where were Ellie and Alfie? Enjoying their Christmas without him, of course, as they had so often before. The difference this year was that they weren’t together; The whole family was fractured, scattered to the wind. And Romeo. Well, he was probably at Mac’s, the two of them bonding over the disappointment of having _him_ forced upon them by their shared blood. Not that it mattered much. James had never felt the pull to spend Christmas with others. It was just another day, after all. Scrooge had got it right, a poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket. He preferred to spend it alone, let others enjoy their consumerist cheer. Of course, that hadn’t been the case the last two years. First the debacle of Christmas at the Mcqueens, demeaning himself for John-Paul by playing parlour games and eating turkey kebabs. And last year. Harry. Although their relationship had yet to shift into what it later became, although there was still a distance between them, he couldn’t deny the feelings that had overtaken him that night. Feelings that had been building for probably as long as he’d known Harry. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really care where anyone else was spending their day. Just Harry.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and James stood, stretching his back. Opening the door, he was confronted by a delivery man standing on the doorstep, lifting the visor of his helmet and smiling at James. He tried to ignore the pity that appeared in the man’s eyes as he looked down at James in his grubby robe, glancing briefly behind him to the mess in the kitchen. James shoved some cash into the man's hand, and quickly shut the door before the words “Merry Christmas” could leave his lips. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a fork from the draw. He didn’t bother to transfer the Chinese food onto a plate, instead returning directly to his spot on the sofa. He opened the plastic lid, gazing down at the noodles inside. His stomach turned. While he usually enjoyed the fresh ingredients of this particular restaurant, today the clumps of chicken and beansprouts looked unbelievably unappetising, grease solidifying as the dish grew cold. The record player clicked and shuddered to a stop. James didn’t move to turn the disc over. He simply gazed down at the food in his lap. Merry Christmas indeed, he thought.

Harry sat at the large wooden table, pushing his food around slowly with his fork and avoiding eye contact with the stern looking woman directly opposite him. He could feel her eyes on him anyway. Harry glanced towards his friend Guy, but he too was staring at his plate. The rest of the guests were silent.

“So, Harry, why are you not with your own family for Christmas? Not that we’re not thrilled to have you here.” Harry felt the tightness in his hostess' clipped voice, but he appreciated she was at least attempting to disguise her disdain. More than his own dad had done the last time they were together. Harry reached out to take a sip of wine before he answered.

“Uhh… it’s been a bit of a tough year for my family. I just needed a little time away, get my head straight.”

“Over Christmas?”

Harry looked down at his plate again, turkey and potatoes and gravy congealing together into a beige slop.

“Yeah.” He said quietly.

“Oh. I see.” From the corner of his eye, Harry saw his friend give his mother a look of warning. She shook her head ever so slightly, and turned to her husband. He looked as though he had fallen asleep whilst eating, slumped back in his chair. There commenced a discussion of things Harry had no clue about, and he gratefully tuned out.

Anyone else would probably have been delighted to spend their Christmas here, in a grand old farmhouse in the middle of the countryside. The cockerel’s crow woke him at dawn to fields gleaming with frost, and he had spent the day sitting in a drawing room warmed by a roaring fire, watching the family unwrap presents extracted from beneath a huge pine. After lunch, he knew there would be an expedition out over the hills, in Barbours and wellies with Sal the border collie bounding ahead. It was picturesque, and yet Harry couldn’t enjoy a moment of it. He longed to be back in his dad’s small flat, watching the kids rip open their overpriced plastic toys. And more than that, he longed to be at James’. His thoughts constantly slipped back to last year, just he and James battened down against the world. No gifts, no tree, no huge dinner. He would have given anything to have that back again. Christmas or no Christmas, all he wanted was James.

Harry cleared his throat as he felt a familiar prick behind his eyes. “I’m really sorry, I’m not feeling very well. I think I’ll just go lie down for a bit, if that’s okay? Sorry.” Harry felt Guy’s eyes searching his face with concern, but he pushed back his chair and quickly absented himself from the room, mumbling more apologies as he left. Harry made his way down the hall to the plush spare room, locking the door behind him and flopping onto his back on the bed. Where to next? He wondered. Guy had been a good mate at boarding school and he appreciated him letting him stay for Christmas, but Harry knew he would soon be gone, heading back down south to spend the new year with his uni friends. And clearly Harry wouldn’t be welcome to stay on without him, judging by his mother’s attitude. So it would soon be time to move on again, to try and find someone willing to have him on their sofa or their floor. The options were thinning out.

Harry reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and holding it above his face. He opened the photo app, thumb swiping automatically into the recently deleted folder and finding the picture he was looking for. For months it had been there, hiding away in case Ste or one of the kids picked up his phone. He would sporadically recover it and then delete it again to stop it from disappearing completely. He looked at it now, as he had everyday since he’d left Hollyoaks. The photo had been taken on the only full night he and James had spent together during their affair. Ste had been on duty with Dee Dee, after she had taken a turn for the worse. Harry had felt so guilty on his way to James’, head bowed to avoid detection, but those feelings disappeared as soon as he entered the flat. It was strange, but being with James had felt like being in a parallel universe at the time. As though the usual rules didn’t apply. And James’ joy at having Harry to himself for the whole night had certainly helped to distract him. That night had been completely untouched by angst or fear from either of them. It had been perfect. At three in the morning, as they lay side by side drunk on champagne and love, Harry had convinced James to take a selfie with him (“Please, James." He remembered begging, "I need something to remind me of this on the nights we’re not so lucky!”). There they lay, heads together against the backdrop of white sheets. Harry was looking straight into the camera, a huge smile on his face. James’ gaze, however, was firmly fixed on Harry, his cheek resting against the top of his head. His eyes shone. Harry sighed, and rolled onto his stomach.

He knew what he wanted. He had known for months. He wanted this picture, except always. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask, not at Christmas. He switched his screen to messages, carefully typing out _I love you._ He quickly deleted it. _Merry Christmas._ He wrote instead, but deleted that too. He slipped the phone under his pillow. This needed to be done face to face, but he had made up his mind. Come January he was going back to Hollyoaks. He was getting James back.

“And a happy new year.” Harry whispered to himself, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winterreise - Franz Schubert, based on the poetry of Wilhelm Müller.


	3. I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarry Christmas 2019. All the good stuff happened. None of the shit.

James sat alone in his living room, a glass of wine in his hand. The fire crackled in the corner, spitting orange flecks towards the grate, and a chorus of carols rang softly from the radio. James hummed quietly to himself, and took a sip from his glass. The rich red liquid ran smoothly down his throat, warming his insides with something other than Christmas cheer, thank goodness. He closed his eyes, relishing the peace and the quiet.

The door suddenly swung open, and shrieks sounded as three bodies piled in from outside. The smell of cold air infiltrated the warmth, the chill of the late December afternoon swirling its way through the room. Juliet, Romeo and Harry trudged across the threshold, trampling in mud and snow while divesting themselves of coats and scarves and hats.

“Shoes off, right now.” James stood, turning to glare at them. Completely igorning him, Juliet headed straight to the radio to switch the station.

“I can’t believe it snowed!” She laughed over the obnoxious Christmas pop now filtering out of the speakers, “It’s been ages since it snowed at Christmas! Did you see how fast I went down that last hill?”

Romeo hopped over the side of the armchair, his bottom landing hard on the cushions, his heavy boots dangling over the arm. “Yeah, I did, Jules. You were amazing! When’s dinner, Pops? I’m starving.”

James shook his head, looking between them in exasperation. Harry, having actually listened and taken off his shoes and socks at the door, wrapped his arms around James’ neck.

“Hi.” He said, pushing onto tiptoes to kiss him.

“Hi.” James replied. He rested his hands lightly on either side of Harry’s hips. “Have fun sledging?”

“It was great, the snow is so deep! You should have come.” James raised an eyebrow, and Harry laughed and kissed him again. 

“Will you two stop snogging! What about dinner?” Romeo kept his eyes resolutely away from his father and his boyfriend, turning on the television and reaching forwards to grab his controller. 

James sat back on the sofa, pulling Harry down beside him. “I was hoping that the two of you might go and pick it up. It should be ready in ten minutes or so.”

Romeo groaned as Juliet perched on the arm of his chair, wrinkling her nose.

“ _Seriously_?” She grumbled. “Anyway, why are we even having Chinese? You do know that it’s _Christmas_?”

James looked at Harry and smiled. “Tradition”. He said, and Harry smiled back and squeezed his hand. So much had changed in two years. Here they were, sat side by side on the same sofa, and yet everything was different this time. Back then James had offered himself completely for any scrap of attention from Harry, and had cheated and lied to get it. He never truly believed he could have him any other way, that Harry might want exactly what he wanted. Yet looking into his eyes now James couldn’t help but believe what he saw reflected, the very warmth that filled him too. The love.

Harry kept his eyes locked on James’ as he fished his keys out of his pocket and threw them towards Romeo. “Go on, take my car.”

Romeo stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowing suspiciously, then jumped up. “Really?” He asked, smirk spreading across his face “Sick! Come on Jules!” Grabbing their coats again, they were out of the door in moments. 

James turned back to Harry. “Do you really think that was a good idea?” 

“Come on, how much damage can he do between here and the restaurant?”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m not paying to fix it.” James said, still unconvinced.

Harry chuckled. Yawning, he stretched out across the sofa and lay his head on James’ lap. James’ fingers automatically ran through his hair, nails leaving soft scratches on his scalp. Harry shut his eyes. “Mmmm, that feels good. I’m really aching, who knew sledging was such a workout?”

“And here I was thinking we’d do our daily workout together.” James murmured. “Don’t let me down now, Harry.”

Harry turned his head and looked up at him wide eyed. James leant down to kiss him very slowly, tongue dipping past teeth to brush lightly against Harry’s.

“They’ll be back soon.” Harry whispered throatily, as James’ hand skimmed down his side and his fingers insinuated themselves past the elastic band of his boxers.

James moved across and breathed into his ear, “I’ll have you finished in minutes.” James felt Harry’s body tense, his eyes flickering closed.

“Okay, Nightingale, do your worst.” Harry moaned quietly as James’ fingers inched closer and closer to his crotch

At that moment, the jangle of keys cut through the quiet of the room again. Harry leapt up, snapping James’ fingers back as he did so. “Ouch.” He muttered under his breath, as the door swung open. 

“Christmas dinner!” Romeo cried, holding up two bags filled to bursting point with plastic and foil containers. Harry gave James a guilty smile, the flush on his cheeks beginning to subside, and made his way to the kitchen to help gather crockery.

“Come on grandpa, get up and help us.” Juliet called to James. James stood with a groan. 

“It’s actually big bro to you! _Your_ dad was grandpa.” Romeo teased, giving Juliet a small nudge in the ribs with his elbow as he squeezed past her with the plates. “Oh, and Harry mate, I _might_ have knocked your bumper a little on the way back.” Romeo winced, and quickly added, “It's still attached… mostly.” He hurried to the table to lay the plates out.

Harry turned to James with his mouth open wide. James shook his head fondly, and joined his family the kitchen. 

  
Harry tiptoed into the bedroom, carefully undressing in the dark. Pulling back the duvet, he slipped into bed beside James. 

“Hey, are you awake?” He whispered, huddling close to James’ back. 

“Mmmm.” James murmured, but didn’t move. Harry wrapped one arm across his chest. He took a deep breath in from James’ hair, shampoo and smoke and the faint smell of wine emanating from him. He slipped one foot under James’ legs, the other in between his knees.

“Jesus, Harry, you’re freezing.”

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled, but didn’t move. Neither did James.

“Did you finish that insipid film then?”

“We did. It was actually pretty good.” James sniffed. “Okay, not good exactly, but it had Jude Law in so that’s gotta give it some extra points. The kids enjoyed it too.” James turned over, repositioning them both until Harry’s head fitted into the space just above his shoulder. He wrapped both of his arms around him, giving a small squeeze, and a sigh escaped from Harry before he could stop it.

“At least mother’s back tomorrow.” James said, “She can take over babysitting duties.” When Marnie had announced that she was meeting Ellie in the French Alps for Christmas, it had thrown James. He hadn’t said anything, but Harry could tell. He now had full responsibility for providing a merry Christmas to two teenagers. James had never really embraced the Christmas spirit, and Harry knew that the last few had been particularly hard on him. That had been due in no small part to Harry himself, and he had been determined to make up for it this year. Together, he and James had cobbled together a Christmas Day the best that they could. Stockings and gingerbread and Chinese takeaways. Sure, it hadn’t been perfect, but they had all tried their best. That’s what families did, after all.

“I mean it.” Harry told James now. “I know they don’t always talk about it, but they had a really shit time before. I think it meant a lot to them, all of this. I’m dead proud of you.” He shifted around to kiss the stubble on James’ chin.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.” James pulled Harry even closer to him. “You’re turning out to be quite the hands on stepdad, taking the children sledging and abiding their terrible film choices.”

“Well, someone has to!” Harry laughed.

“I suppose we’re quite a team.” Harry could feel James smile against his forehead.

“Yeah, I think we are.” Harry nodded. “I love you, James. So much.”

“Me too.” James said, and Harry could hear a tiny tremor in his voice. “I love you.”

Harry relaxed, settling his head back onto James’ chest. Belly full, wine fogged mind, he began to slip easily from consciousness. Before he completely fell away, he heard James’ voice soft in his ear.

“Merry Christmas, Harry Thompson.”


End file.
